


Boy Clothes and Girl Clothes

by SkyTurtle



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Cross-Generational Friendship, Fae Robbie Rotten, Gen, Gender Non-Conforming Stingy, Mentioned Glanni, Neurodivergent Robbie, Off-Screen Transphobia, Supportive Sportacus (LazyTown)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 03:42:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11199756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyTurtle/pseuds/SkyTurtle
Summary: Robbie becomes an accidental parental figure when Stingy starts to question gendered clothing.-“Well, I know you need disguises and stuff for your villain work, but isn't wearing skirts and dresses still weird? You're a boy, right?”





	Boy Clothes and Girl Clothes

After his Lair had first been discovered Robbie had started getting uninvited guests in his home. He had tried to chase them off but the children of Lazytown would always somehow find a way to sneak, cheat or bargain their way inside. Eventually it just became easier to let them in. Thankfully they never came in groups, they either came alone or in pairs. Robbie didn't want to consider what would happen if all five of them decided to show up at once. They were bad enough one at a time. 

Candy Boy always managed to get into his fridge and cupboards and eat all of his snacks. Loud Girl inevitably broke at least one thing during her visits, or worse, set off one of his devices. Poodle always tried to “improve” Robbie's inventions and, while the thought seemed nice enough, that always ended with something exploding. Pink Girl usually only showed up to convince him to come outside and visit everyone above ground, which he always refused... 

_Most_ the time he refused, anyway...

And then there was Sticky, who he always had to watch very closely to make sure he wasn't taking anything. He would try to steal anything, regardless of worth or usefulness. Robbie caught him once trying to take a handful of bolts. What use could he possibly have for bolts?

Although he didn't seem to be taking anything today...

Robbie kept an eye on the greedy child while tinkering with one of his latest inventions. Stingy didn't seem to be stealing anything, instead he was looking through everything and writing in a notebook. Which was odd, but it wasn't as bothersome as his usual kleptomania.

Robbie decided to test his luck and focus more entirely on his machine. It was meant to convert all the sportscandy in town into real sugary candy, but he hadn't quite figured out how make the result taste good yet. 

Stingy mumbled something to himself, possibly numbers.

What was the point of making mass amount of sweets if it still tasted healthy? If he was going to make candy he had every intention of eating it. Obviously he had to fix this, but how? Maybe... adding an extra sugar converter? 

Pages flipping, pencil scratching, more mumbling...

He'd already added more than enough sugar converters though. Maybe adding a chocolate coater or a taffy injector would do the trick.

Counting, scratch scratch...

Ugh! There was no way Robbie would be able to focus like this! He threw his welding mask up. “What on earth are you doing over there?” He shouted.

Stingy gave a startled yelp and jumped, knocking over half the contents of the desk he was searching through with a loud clatter. “Ah! Sorry! What?” He looked rapidly between Robbie and the mess.

Robbie waved a dismissive hand toward the mess, which probably wasn't very comforting since he was holding a welding torch in that hand. “Leave it. It always ends up on the floor anyway. Now answer my question already.” 

He looked down at the notebook, a little self-consciously. “I'm, uh, logging? Yes, I'm logging everything that I see.”

Well, that sounded suspicious. “Logging? Why? Have you taken up spying for that flippity Sportakook?”

Stingy pulled a face. “No.”

“Then why do you need a log?”

“Well, I don't really _need_ it-”

“Or are you making a list of things you want to swindle away from me later?”

“No!” He threw his hands down, only half a step away from stomping his foot. “Stephanie suggested this so that I can _avoid_ taking things!”

Robbie raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And how does that work?”

Stingy crossed his arms, still pouting. “Stephanie said that if I'm busy writing I'll be less tempted to grab things. And also, I'm documenting everything I see, so in a way I'm still taking it with me.”

That... Actually sounded like a good plan. It wasn't infallible, but it gave the boy something to do and, even if he didn't get to keep things physically, he had proof that the things had existed. But still, if it meant Sportaflop might get forewarning on his evil plans then something had to be done about it.

Robbie looked him up and down suspiciously. “And your sure you're not secretly a spy?”

“Of course I'm sure.”

“Hmm...” He considered for a moment before pointing at his current invention. “What did you call this in that book of yours?”

Stingy took a brief look at the mass of metal and sugar and started flipping through the notebook. “Let's see... Here it is. Unknown invention by Robbie Rotten. Status; unfinished. Qualities; slightly smaller than myself, metal, mostly spherical, loose wires on the inside, scorch marks, filled haphazardly with sugar-”

“Okay, stop, quiet!”

He did, almost seeming proud of himself.

“Just tell me if you know what it does.”

“No, I don't. Some of the stuff around here I recognize from your past schemes, but most of it is just junk to me.”

“Good. And it's going to stay junk to you, got it? Because if I hear you warning people about my plans your car is getting a one-way ticket to the scrap heap.”

He gasped, clutching his notebook to his chest. “You wouldn't dare!”

“Of course I would! After all,” Robbie ran a hand over his own hair, slicking back some loose strands. “that's what villains are for.” 

 

–

 

To his credit, the notebook tactic seemed to be working. Stingy had visited three times over the past month and only one of those times did Robbie ever catch him trying to swipe anything. A glittery strip of fabric that had been left on his work desk.

Really, the boy was practically a magpie.

If things continued at this rate Stingy might be able to give up snatching things entirely. Who knows, now that Robbie didn't have to watch him nearly as closely he might even get away with taking a quick nap! But he wasn't quite willing to test that yet. For now he was trying to take advantage of the recent good behavior by focusing on whatever projects he had at the time. 

Stingy mumbled to himself as he wrote on and on about whatever he happened to find interesting in the Lair today while Robbie tried to focus on sewing. The plan to turn all the sportscandy into candy had gone over like a lead balloon, so now he was working on a new disguise. The design he sketched out had a knee length pencil skirt, a blouse with lightly puffed sleeves and a vertically striped vest. He wasn't entirely sure how he was going to use this disguise yet, but he was a genius, he'd think of something. Maybe a teacher? No, he already tried that. Politician? Well, he was the mayor that one time. Maybe he should aim higher...

He was brought out of his thoughts by a tug on the fabric he was using. Stinky had a corner of cloth held between his fingers, feeling the texture. Robbie stole a quick glance at the notebook. It was difficult, but he could just make out the words “ _...disguise by Robbie Rotten... ...unfinished..._ ”

Was it really necessary for him to start touching everything just so he could log it? “Go away, kid.”

Stingy frowned at the fabric. “Can you tell me what it's gonna be?” 

Robbie pulled the cloth out of his hand, guarding protectively. “A skirt. But if you want more details than that, you're out of luck.”

He pouted, but continued to scribble in his notebook. Robbie thought that would be the end of it, but only a few minutes later he spoke up again.

“Hey, Robbie?”

“What do you want now?” He grumbled.

“Why do you wear skirts?”

He twitched. “Why do I wear anything?”

“Well, I know you need disguises and stuff for your villain work, but isn't wearing skirts and dresses still weird? You're a boy, right?”

“Well, basically, yes-” Wait, no, he was not going to have to have this talk. Robbie did not sign up to give anyone the “gender isn't real” talk, he didn't have the patience for it. Besides, wasn't that good-guy stuff for Sportacus? Why couldn't he give them that talk?

Stingy looked at him expectantly, still waiting for a real answer.

He sighed. “Look.” Robbie held up a bundle of various fabrics he was using. “None of this is 'for boys' or 'for girls', it's just fabric. You've seen women wear pants, right? Suits? Maybe a tie?” 

“Yes.”

“Exactly. It's not weird for women to wear pants nowadays because it's just cloth sewn together. It doesn't mean anything. Skirts and dresses are nothing but cloth too. The clothing doesn't care who wears it, only stupid people who don't know any better care. And stupid people are there to be ignored.”

Stingy was obviously perplexed by this new concept. “But...”

Robbie raised an eyebrow. “But what?”

His face screwed up, trying to come up with a legitimate argument. “But there's no skirts or dresses in the boy's section in stores. And how come I never see boys in dresses then?”

“You've seen me wear dresses, right?”

“Well, yeah-”

“And you already said that I'm male.”

“Yeah.”

“Then congratulations, you've seen a man wear dresses. Now sit down and be quiet.”

After a few moments of deliberating on if he wanted to argue or not, Stingy did turn and take a seat on the ramp in front of the disguise tubes, legs hanging over the side. He wrote quietly for another twenty minutes before going home that day.

 

–

 

“I want this.”

It had been a month since Stinky had last invaded Robbie's home. He had hoped that the kid had just gotten bored and decided not to come back. But now he was here again, still scribbling in his notebook and being a pest.

All he wanted to do was eat and take a nap today. Maybe, if he was feeling energetic, he'd watch some infomercials. What he certainly didn't have the energy for was tolerating avaricious children.

“What are you trying to take now?” Robbie turned in his chair to see what the boy was doing.

Stingy pointed to one of the disguise tubes. This one had a floor length ball gown in it today. Robbie hadn't had a chance to use that one yet and it had been incredibly frustrating to sew, but it was nice to look at and it was always a good idea to have options available so it had been worth it.

“You can't have it.”

Stingy pulled a face like he just ate a raw lemon. “But- I didn't-”

“No.”

He pressed his forehead against the glass of the tube, looking like a sad puppy. “But it's glittery.”

“That's _shimmer_ , I'll have you know. And you still can't have it.”

Silence for several long moments “...Could I trade for it?”

“No.”

“Uuuuuugh!” Stingy sat down in front of the tube with a huff, his arms crossed over his chest.

Robbie rolled his eyes. “It's much too big for you. What would you even do with a dress you can't wear?”

“I'd keep it and look at it forever.”

Robbie groaned and rubbed at his temples. He really was too tired for this. He knew from seeing Sportacus talk to Stingy that if he reminded the magpie of the importance of generosity he'd calm down and eventually leave whatever object he'd set his sights on alone. But Robbie wasn't a hero. It wasn't his job to teach children right from wrong. And, much more importantly, he was _tired_. Today was not a day for evil schemes, inventing or sewing. Today was a day for eating cake under a blanket and taking six-hour naps in the early afternoon.

“Listen, Stinky-” 

“ _Stingy_.”

“Whatever. If I agree to make you a dress or something later will you leave me alone today?”

His head whipped around to look at Robbie. “You'll make something? Just for _me_?”

“One outfit. That's it.”

His grin was so bright it could almost rival Sportacus'. “Could it be a skirt? A yellow one?”

“Sure, whatever. So long as you go and leave me alone. For at least, I don't know... Four days.”

“Okay! I'm gone!” Stingy was on his feet faster than should have been possible and immediately darted toward to exit hatch. He shouted behind himself. “I'll see you in four days, Robbie!”

What did he just get himself into?

 

–

 

He should have asked for a week. Robbie enjoyed four blessed days of relative peace. Of course, he could still hear the children playing and screaming and making a ruckus above ground, but at least none of it was coming from inside his own Lair. 

Infomercials had been watched, cake and candy eaten and naps taken. Not every moment had been enjoyable, mind you. Nightmares had been bad, there had been at least two baking disasters, and at one point he'd accidentally gotten tangled in his own robe and nearly choked himself. But none of that could spoil the fact that he'd gotten to be lazy. 

_Tap, tap, tap._

But now it was horribly obvious that his four days were up. He could hear Stingy now, tapping away at the silo entrance. “Oh, just come in and get it over with!” Robbie called out.

Stingy landed on his living room floor moments later. “Hi, Robbie,” he said, pulling himself up and straightening out his clothes.

“Hello, Stinky.”

“ _Stingy._ ”

“I take it you're here for your end of the bargain?” 

He nodded. 

Robbie sighed dramatically, but began searching through his sewing desk anyway. “Fine. Let me take your measurements.” 

Stingy was surprisingly quiet during the whole process. For most of it the only sounds came from Robbie mumbling to himself.

“Twenty-six inches... Nineteen and a half inches... Nine inches... Okay, now hold your arms out like this. There you go... Fifteen inches...” 

This went on for several minutes before Stingy dared to speak. “Do you really need all these numbers?”

“Of course I do... Ten inches...”

“But... You're just making me a skirt, right? Why do you need to measure my arms and stuff?”

“Don't be ridiculous. If I'm going to the, ugh, _effort_ of sewing you a skirt that means you're at least getting a top to go with it. You'd probably wear something horrible otherwise. Put your arms over your head.” 

His eyes lit up. “A whole outfit?” He shook his head, resolving himself. “Isn't that too much though?”

That was impressive. Not only was he getting better at not taking things, but he was trying to give others the option of _not_ giving him things. Whatever methods they were using to try and teach him against greed were obviously working. Before he knew it there would be nothing but kind, generous people in town. It sounded positively disgusting. 

“Don't start thinking I'm being benevolent, kid. You're so small that even a full outfit will only take a few hours to sew up.” Or less, if he decided to use magic to help the process along.

“So... I'm definitely not being selfish?”

“Thirteen inches... Well, not right now. No.”

In an instant all of the previously suppressed excitement was back. “What type of outfit will it be? Will there be lace? Or a jacket? Or-”

Robbie waved his hands vaguely in a shushing motion. “Hush, hush! You'll find out when you get it. Now just hold your horses and wait.”

The onslaught of questions stopped, but instead he was bouncing on his toes. Normally, Robbie would ignore it, but it was messing up his measurements.

He pressed down on his shoulder to try and hold him still. “If you wanted a skirt so bad couldn't you just borrow one from Pink Girl? Or maybe the loud one?”

The bouncing stopped almost instantly. “Well, I don't think Trixie has any dresses or skirts.”

“Last one... Eighteen. Now sit down somewhere.” He jotted the last number down and started looking through his fabrics. “What about Pink Girl? I know she wears skirts.”

“Well... Uh... I, uh... Didn't want to ask her.” Robbie wasn't even looking at him but he could tell he was shuffling his feet.

Stingy had said before that he wanted the skirt to be yellow, so he started there, then found other fabric that would compliment that shade. “Why? She's practically the definition of good intentions, I'm sure she'd let you.”

“Um...”

Robbie sighed, recognizing that halting tone. “Are you embarrassed to ask your friends?”

“Well... Kinda?”

On one hand, Robbie knew it was stupid to be embarrassed of liking certain clothes. But Stingy was just a kid. If Robbie hadn't had Glanni around when he was growing up he might have been embarrassed, too. Stingy obviously didn't have anyone in his family that he was comfortable asking about these things, and he didn't want to ask his friends. Robbie felt a shudder of horror as he realized that he was the only person this child felt comfortable talking to.

This was definitely not his job. “Listen, if any of those friends of yours ask questions, just tell them what I told you about clothes just being fabric. And if anyone gives you trouble over it I'm sure that Sportakook would be more than happy to save the day as always.” 

“He would?”

“He's a hero, of course he would. He might be a wide-eyed, over-energetic spazz, but he's not ignorant.” In fact, Robbie could remember Sportacus complimenting him on his more feminine disguises on more than one occasion. The only people who dared insult Robbie's ingenious disguises were prejudiced people who were made uncomfortable, so Sportacus was definitely a safe bet for Stingy.

Stingy hummed an acknowledgment but otherwise stayed silent as he thought things over. After some minutes he started writing in his notebook again.

Robbie got on with his sewing. It really was a very simple project. After working on things like his dinosaur disguise anything as simple as an everyday outfit was easy. And the fact that Stingy was small and therefore only required half as much fabric made things even simpler. And magic always made things go faster.

An hour and a half later he'd made a complete outfit. A pleated yellow skirt, a short-sleeved button up with those blue pin-stripes that the boy was so fond of, and a sweater-vest to go over top. 

“Hey, Stinky!”

“ _Stingy._ ”

“Your clothes are done.” He held out the bundle of fabric.

He let out a small, elated gasp and snatched it from Robbie's hands. “This is all of it? It's all done?”

“Yep.”

Stingy unfolded his new clothes and took turns holding each item up to himself to see it. With each passing second the boy's smile grew wider and his bouncing more energetic. It all looked very exhausting. 

Still holding the skirt and tops close to himself, he twirled around. “It's so pretty! Thank you so much, Robbie!”

“Yeah, sure...” Robbie really wasn't sure how he was meant to react to causing this much happiness. It didn't seem natural. It was his job to be a villain and make his town lazy. But here Stingy was, twirling and giggling and bouncing in place, obviously ecstatic over something that Robbie Rotten had done for him. Then again, it was _his_ masterful sewing work. Who wouldn't be happy about that?

Robbie had almost accepted the fact that he had actually made someone happy when Stingy suddenly wrapped two tiny arms around his waist in a hug.

“Oof!” He flailed his arms, not knowing how to detach the child from himself. “What on earth are you doing!? Let go of me!”

Stingy released him, but his grin never left. “Thank you so much, Robbie!” 

He straightened out his clothes, making sure Stingy didn't ruin anything. “Yes, you said. Just don't make a nuisance of yourself, okay?” 

“Okay, I'll try.” Stingy turned, ran back to the exit and started on his way out, his new clothes held close to his chest. Moments later his voice echoed down the silo. “Thanks again!” 

Robbie grumbled to himself and plopped into his cushy chair. Children really were too loud. But at least he left already. Maybe Robbie could get in an extra nap before he had to eat and go to bed.

He looked over the mess of loose fabric and thread on his sewing desk.

Then again, he had already started sewing today. He could always whip up a quick disguise and get started on a new scheme. He had thought of a few good ideas for himself while he was working on Stingy's clothes...

Robbie gave one last resigned sigh. So much for his fifth lazy afternoon. 

 

–

 

Something was wrong.

The last four times that Stingy had decided to make a visit he had been relatively chipper. Stingy was always a serious child and wasn't nearly as prone to emotional outbursts as, say, Ziggy might be. But he smiled more and had taken to humming irritating tunes to himself. 

Today that had changed. At first Robbie had been grateful for this. Frankly, if he had to listen to Stingy hum that “Mine” song again he might completely lose his mind. Moods change all the time. It didn't necessarily mean that anything was wrong, he just wasn't as peppy and energetic as before. 

But no, something was definitely wrong this time. Over the past forty-five minutes Stingy had done nothing but sit in the orange chair and play with the fluff on the armrest. Occasionally he would write something in his notebook, but for the most part he was just petting and running his fingers through the fur. Robbie would be lying if he said that he hadn't spent hours at a time doing exactly that himself, but that was the point. Whenever he got that intently focused on tactile sensations it was usually because he felt terrible. 

What was Robbie meant to do about it though? He would normally leave the consoling of children to Sportacus since he was always more than eager to help in any way he could. But of course that wouldn't work now, because _of course_ Stingy had to come to the _local Villain's Lair_ to sulk in. Comforting him was a bad option, Robbie was terrible at comforting people. But he still needed to do something about this.

He tossed the wrench he was using to the side and pushed away from his in-progress invention. “Okay, what's wrong and why haven't you told Sportacus about it?” 

Stingy's head snapped up at the sudden voice. “What? Nothing's wrong.” He rubbed at his eyes, seeming to have trouble refocusing after staring at the chair for so long.

“Obviously something is wrong. If it wasn't then you'd be making lists or organizing things or, ugh, _playing_.” 

Stingy looked a little abashed at being found out so easily, looking down at his feet.

Robbie groaned when no answer was forthcoming. “Let's start with this, why are you sulking here and not anywhere else?”

“Stephanie noticed really quick, too, and now she's convinced the others to try and cheer me up.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Isn't that a good thing?”

Stingy pulled his knees up close and rested his chin on them. “I guess... I just don't feel like talking to them right now.”

“There's no reason you have to play outside today, you could just stay at home. That's what I've been telling you all for years.”

He frowned, then quickly covered the expression with his knees. “My parents are at home.”

“Ah.” That didn't bode well. “Did something happen with your parents?”

He was quiet for a few beats. “I guess.”

Something suspiciously close to concern came over Robbie. He'd been pretty lucky when it came to the parental figures in his own life, and he'd seen enough unlucky cases to be grateful for it. Did Stingy and his parents just have a disagreement or had it been more serious than that?

“Have you told Sportacus about it?”

“No. I shouldn't argue with my parents anyway, they know best.” He said it bitterly, like he'd been fed those words and didn't like the taste.

“Parents don't always know best. Just because they gave you some DNA doesn't mean they're gods. They _might_ know better, or they might be being stupid.”

“Didn't your parents know better than you?”

“My dad was a PA of a politician and my mom was a thief. They encouraged me to argue with them if we disagreed.” The fact that his mother was Fae also helped, but that could just remain unsaid.

Stingy pulled a face. “But didn't... Did you ever win?”

“I'll have you know I won most of those arguments. Sometimes they even agreed that I had won! But my point is that parents are just as capable of being stupid as anyone else.”

Stingy thought about this for a few minutes before softly speaking up again. “You said one time that people who think boys can't wear skirts are ignorant, right?”

Oh no. “Yes, I did.”

“Mother found that skirt you gave me before. Father and her said I shouldn't wear it anymore.”

Robbie felt a flair of anger that he tried very hard to smother. “Did they say why?”

“Father said 'you're nine now, it's time you stop playing dress up and wear things appropriate for a boy'.” 

“Then, yes, they're very ignorant.”

“But-!” Stingy halted, obviously upset but struggling to communicate. “They don't let me argue like your parents do! I tried to tell them that it's just fabric like you said and they shushed me! They told me to just listen to them. And I know that if I tried to argue they would have taken my things away again.”

There were so many things wrong with that scene. Robbie wanted to point out all of it but he decided to focus on the main point. “Did they let you keep the skirt?”

He huffed. “No. Dad threw it away.”

“What happens to all the trash in your house?”

“Uh, it all gets taken out to a big dumpster outside and then when the garbageman comes he takes it all away.”

“Has the garbageman come since your skirt was thrown out?”

Comprehension dawned on Stingy's face. “No, he hasn't.”

“In that case,” Robbie stood and pressed a few keys on his disguise dispenser. “We're going to do one of my favorite hobbies.” The machine spat out a pair of overalls, rubber boots and gloves. “Dumpster diving!” 

 

–

 

Thankfully, Stingy had his own overalls, boots and gloves. Apparently he usually used them for gardening, but they would work just as well for this. 

“The dumpster is right behind here.” He pointed toward the back of the mansion.

It wasn't the most closed off area. In fact, it seemed to be the only part of the mansion that wasn't behind a locked gate. “Do your parents ever come to this part of the house?”

“Nope. The only ones who come here are the housekeeper and the kitchen staff. The kitchen doesn't get rid of their garbage until late and the housekeeper likes me so I don't think she'd tell if I ask nicely.”

“Wonderful.” With that out of the way, Robbie expertly shoved the lid open, found the latch and hooked it so it would stay open. 

“Um, Robbie?”

“What?”

“How many times have you done this?”

He couldn't help but chuckle. “More times than I can count, kid. I think I've been in more dumpsters than grocery stores. Now get over here, I'll give you a boost.”

With some effort he managed to heft the boy up and over. He landed with a small _thud_ followed by a whine. “Oh, Lord, it stinks in here!” Stingy gave a long wail of despair. 

Robbie laughed loudly. “What did you think it would smell like in there? Butterscotch?”

“Euuuuuuuuugh!”

“Heehehee.”

He hoisted himself over the side of the dumpster and landed gracelessly on his back with a _squelch_ sound. He took in a long sniff and nearly gagged. “Yep. That's rich people garbage.”

Stingy was holding his hands over his nose and mouth. “How can you tell?”

“Lots of food waste. Poor people never let this much food spoil. Now don't just stand there, get digging.” 

With no small amount of hesitation Stingy removed his hands from his face and started carefully picking through the garbage. His tidy nature was obviously holding him back from really digging in, but he was making progress, even if it was slow. “I should have brought my mask and goggles. The stench is making my eyes water.”

Robbie was digging through the trash at a much faster pace, but that was expected. “You'll get used to it.”

He thought about that for a moment.“...Hey, Robbie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Why do you do this so much?”

His nose twitched at the odd question. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you were talking about your parents before and it didn't sound like you were poor. So why did you need to dig through garbage?”

“It was just a hobby.”

Stingy looked up from the trash just to give him a horrified look. “You did this for _fun_?” 

“Of course I did! My cousin and I used to go through and hit every dumpster in town. We'd manage to get through a block a night. He built most of his wardrobe out of things he found in the trash. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff we found in Vanitytown... Speaking of...” Robbie found a bag full of clothes. There were blouses and dresses and even pieces of suits. 

Stingy looked over his shoulder to see what he'd found. “My mom was looking through all the clothes in the house to see what she could throw away. That's how she found my skirt. Wait, is it in there?”

He picked through the bag but didn't see a sign of yellow. “Nope, not here.”

“Drat...”

Robbie tossed the bag out of the dumpster.

“...Why did you do that?”

“Weren't you listening? I can take that home. None of it will fit me as it is, but I can always alter it or use the fabric to make something new. Saves me the effort of shopping for it later.”

Stingy had the most befuddled look on his face, like he didn't know what question to start with. Apparently deciding not to ask any of them, he instead just sighed and got back to digging.

There was a sound outside of the dumpster, a rattling noise. Stingy and Robbie both halted mid-motion. “When does that housekeeper come out here?” Robbie whispered. 

“At the end of her shift, but that's not for another hour.” He whispered back.

 _Thud_. A familiar, accented voice called out. “Stingy? Is that you in there?”

Robbie groaned.

They both popped their heads over the side of the dumpster, Stingy on his tiptoes and Robbie still kneeling in the trash.

Sportacus, looking somewhat bemused, waved to the two of them. “There you are, Stingy. Your friends have been looking everywhere for you. What are you and Robbie doing in a dumpster?”

“Um-”

“Thievery.” Robbie answered for him.

“How can it be theft if it's from _my house_?” Stingy argued.

“Um...” Sportacus tried to interject, but got interrupted.

“First of all, it's not your house. It belongs to your parents. Secondly, what we're looking for actually did belong to you and it got thrown away, so theft has already happened. And thirdly-”

“Wait, am I stealing things right now!?” Stingy shouted in a panic. “But I've been trying so hard not to take things!”

Sportacus made a vague calming gesture toward Stingy, despite his own completely lost expression. “And you've been doing a very good job-”

“No, _I'm_ the one stealing. If I wanted you to start stealing I would teach you how to get away with it first-”

“Hold it!” Sportacus raised his voice just slightly to be heard over the two of them. When he saw that both had gone quiet he spoke again. “Could someone please tell me what's going on?”

“We're looking for my stuff.” Stingy said.

“Why is your stuff in the garbage?” 

“My father threw it away.” The bitterness from before was back in his voice.

Robbie recognized the concern he felt in himself previously on Sportacus' face now. “Why would your father throw your things away?”

Stingy looked down, suddenly seeming very ashamed of himself. Sport put a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort the child and coax him into explaining.

When Stingy didn't answer Robbie did it for him. “Apparently, Mr. Spoilero decided that Stingy wearing skirts was upsetting, so he threw out the one he had and banned him from wearing any more.”

Sportacus froze. It wasn't the first time the Robbie had seen him stop moving, but this had a particular quality to it. This was the type of stillness that reminded him that Sportacus was completely capable of breaking bones if he wanted to. Robbie shuddered, suddenly very grateful of the Elf's kind and gentle nature.

Apparently Stingy recognized that stillness too. “Are you mad?”

Sportacus shook himself a little a brought a smile back to his face. “I'm a little upset, but not at you.”

He jumped up, sat himself down on the edge of the dumpster and started rubbing small circles on Stingy's back before continuing. “There's nothing wrong with wearing skirts or dresses and I'm glad to see you fighting for the things that make you happy, so I'm actually very proud of you. I'm just upset that your family is making you feel this uncomfortable.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” He looked back to Robbie. “I want you two to keep searching. I'm going to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Spoilero and see if I can make them understand.”

Robbie grumbled, but didn't argue, which was apparently close enough to an agreement for Sportacus.

He gave Stingy one last pat on the back before he hopped off the dumpster. He had nearly run off when he got grabbed by his arm. “Wait, are you going to tell?” Stingy asked.

“Don't worry, you didn't do anything wrong so there's nothing to tell. It'll just be an educational conversation. It might take a while, but they'll learn to understand with time, okay?”

He seemed unconvinced, but nodded anyway and let go of his arm. “Okay.”

And with that, he was gone. The two of them were silent for several long moments.

Robbie tossed one of the unopened bags of garbage closer to Stingy. “Come on, kid. Keep digging.”

He refocused on the bag and got back to work. Stingy was much slower now than he had been before. A part of Robbie wanted to tell him to pick up the pace, but he doubtless had a lot on his mind. Whether he realized it or not he was probably scared what the result of that conversation would be. Sportacus was a hero and all, but that was no guarantee that his parents would take kindly to being educated by a stranger. 

“Do you really think my parents will learn?” Stingy asked.

“Maybe. It's possible. Sportacus won't drop it until they do, so there's that. Those friends of yours will doubtless be clamoring over each other to be the first to offer you help. But, even if they don't learn to understand, it's not the end of the world. We're going to find that skirt and then we're going to learn how to hide things from them so they don't take them away again.”

Stingy flinched. “Wait, but isn't sneaking around and hiding things wrong?”

“Not in this case. In this case it's protecting the things you care about.”

Stingy got quiet again after that. Things stayed quiet for another five minutes until a small squeal was heard. 

“I found it!” Stingy shouted, holding the bundle of yellow cloth triumphantly.

“Good. Now let's get out of here.” They had dug deep down enough that the stench was beginning to be too much even for him.

Stingy bounced on the balls of his feet as he looked over his skirt. “It's so dirty. I think I'll need to clean it three times before I can wear it again.” He smiled even as he said this, so he couldn't have been too upset.

“Sure, whatever. Just let me give you a boost over the side.”

A few moments later they were safely out in the open air. Robbie had just gathered up his bag of stolen fabric and slung it over his shoulder when Stingy shouted again. “Oh no!”

Robbie threw a hand against his ear to block the noise, almost losing his balance. He hoped Stingy wasn't making a habit of shrieking around him. “What now?”

“It has a tear!”

He looked closer. Sure enough, there was a rip in the seam. “Calm down, it's a simple fix. You can hand-sew it back together it you want to.”

“But I don't know how to sew.”

“It's one of the simplest things in the world. At least the basics, anyway. I'll show you how later so you can stop shouting over every loose thread and tear. Much later. Like, next week at the earliest. I'm out of energy and I need to sleep for a good five solid days.”

**Author's Note:**

> You'll take my unnecessary italics from my cold dead hands! Also, don't worry, Sport didn't murder any parents that day. Just some stern finger waggling and an educational powerpoint. I'll leave it to you to decide how well that worked out and what happened after
> 
> https://trashyfandomboy.tumblr.com/


End file.
